by Bec McMaster
Does she know?
Does she suspect?
Did my sister tell her?
My palms feel clammy.
“Rise,” Mother calls. “Rise and prepare to bring in the summer.”
Two swords are brought forth as we all surge to our feet. One is made of hawthorne wood, and the other forged of spelled glass. Both have sharpened tips, though this is a mock battle and neither prince is supposed to be harmed. It’s happened on occasion—purely through mischance—but it’s said that a bloody start to summer’s reign is a bad omen for the crops.
“Let Maia bless this court,” my mother calls, lifting the hawthorne sword. “Bring forth her prince of summer. Bring forth our valiant knight, here to slay the icy cold!”
She flings the sword into the air, and it catapults end over end, until a gleeful blond knight snatches it with a cheer. He’s captured by his friends and lifted onto shoulders, where he’s brought forth into the center of the clearing.
“And his opponent?” My mother pauses, lifting the glass sword. “A prince of winter, with a heart of pure ice.”
The tip of the glass sword circles the crowd, and a hint of trepidation grows within me. And then the sword pauses, pointing directly toward me.
Every inch of me goes cold.
“Vi?” Finn growls under his breath.
I have two knives. I can maybe ride the ley line from this distance. But we’ll never escape—
“Come forth, my winter prince,” my mother calls, and as the crowd claps and cheers, I realize it wasn’t me after all. It’s him.
Pure, fucking coincidence. Or maybe my mother’s interest in any tall, broad-shouldered male she doesn’t recognize.
I’m going to be sick.
He can’t refuse. To refuse would bring certain scrutiny.
This is a fucking disaster.
“It’s a mock battle. You’re supposed to lose. Don’t kill him!”
“Lose?” he asks incredulously.
“Yes.” I push him toward the sword.
Finn staggers forward, his heavy black velvet cloak obscuring the breadth of his shoulders. A pair of laughing ladies tear it from him, and another pair lay hands to his shirt. Even behind the mask, I can tell his eyebrows just arched.
“Vi?” Thiago links with me as I pretend to clap and cheer, my heart rabbiting in my chest. “What’s wrong? I can sense your fear.”
“They’ve crowned Finn the Prince of Winter.” I explain everything as succinctly as I can. “Can he control himself?”
Or am I going to need to rein in his Sylvaren tendencies?
“I won’t send him into a battle unless necessary, but a minor skirmish is fine. He’s stricter with himself than he needs to be.”
“Once the fight is done, Finn will be overwhelmed with ladies. He’ll have lost the battle, but he’ll still be a prince for the night, and they’ll all want to share in the attention.”
“So you’re alone?” Thiago demands.
I wince. “You know the answer to that.”
Finn shoots me a frustrated glance as the Prince of Summer attacks him. Every inch of him trembles with the urge to lunge forward and end this foolish fight, and I don’t think he even knows how to lose.
“Get out,” Thiago says shortly. “Finn can rejoin us later.”
“No.” The castle is right there. “This is our best chance. The castle won’t ever be so unguarded again, and nor will my mother be parted from her crown!”
He’s silent, but I swear he’s cursing under his breath. “Head directly toward the castle. I’ll meet you there.”
“What? You can’t come into the woods! My mother is here. She will sense your magic and—”
“Then maybe she and I can have the reckoning we’ve been dancing toward for thirteen years.”
I can’t breathe. This is my mother’s seat of power. She’s twice as dangerous here, where the woods yearn to answer her every whim.
“I’m not asking, Vi,” he says with a silky whisper. “Either you come back to me right now, or I will come for you.”
This is our only chance. I have to take the risk. “Remind Finn that he’s supposed to lose. And tell him not to bed any of the women wearing blue. They’re naiads, and they’ll try and drown him in a stream once they’re done with him. Veil yourself and I’ll meet you by the eastern walls. Do not use your magic unless necessary.”
Pacing the shadows, I wait for Thiago as the clash of swords ring in the distance. The fight should have been over by now, and I hope against hope that Finn’s Sylvaren blood hasn’t roused.
Silence falls.
A shiver runs down my spine—the type of shiver that everything that has ever realized it is prey feels.
I slowly turn around as Thiago steps out of a patch of pure darkness, his face taut with predatory intensity.
I almost didn’t sense him. His wards are woven so tightly around him and his power that it’s a wonder he can breathe.
Stalking toward me, he kisses me. Hard. One hand clasping the back of my skull, and the other caressing my jaw. And then it’s over just as quickly as it began.
“How do we get in?” he asks.
“This way.” I lead him around the castle wall.
There’s a reason I chose this patch of the forest. Pausing beside a drape of ivy that coats the walls, I run my hands over the stone and search for the slight indentation I know is there. It gives a click, and then a section of the wall swings open.
“My sister and I used to sneak out when we were younger and watch them celebrate Imbolc.”
“It’s a surprise your mother kept you locked away from such rites. With her own carnal nature, I’d have expected her to push you toward them.”
“No.” I lead him into the dark. “We would have been competition. Tonight is her night, and she likes to revel in the unabashed attention of her entire court.”
The wall swings shut behind us, plunging us into absolute blackness.
“Is it safe to summon a faelight?”
I spin one into being, and it comes to life easier than I can ever recall. Layer by layer, my mother’s curse work is slowly being undone, and a little part of me thrills at how easy my fae magic is becoming to wield.
Silvery blue light cascades over the tunnel.
“Quiet,” I tell him as we hurry through the darkness. “This leads directly to the royal wing. Nobody knows it’s here, but the guards have wolfhounds that guard the bailey, and if they hear us…."
I don’t need to add more.
It’s a long way through a series of interlocking passages. From a glimpse of the unstirred dust on the floor, nobody’s come this way in years.
Maybe Andraste stopped sneaking out after I married Thiago.
Finally, we’re deep in the heart of the royal apartments. I pause beside a panel in the wall and plunge us into darkness again. “My mother’s chambers lie on the other side.”
“Of all the places I would prefer never to see the inside of.” He nods, and I slowly, slowly ease the panel open.
The room is empty.
The curtains are thrown open, moonlight spilling across the room. My heart hammers as I place my first foot on the floor and pause, expecting blazing wards to ignite and alarms to scream.
There is nothing.
Exhaling hard, I slip into the room, and Thiago follows me like a thief in the night.
His gaze rakes over the sumptuous furnishings and elegant silks. From the sudden arch of his brow, I can tell it’s not what he expected.
The wall is papered in a forest print, with little creatures peeking from behind the trees. The ceiling is a night sky, with dozens of sparkling little stars pulsating light. And the bed is scrolled gold, curling up into an enormous canopy, from which hangs delicate white silk.
“This way,” I tell him, crossing to the door at the furthest end of the room.
A tower adjoins my mother’s chambers, and it’s here where her most precious items are kept. There’s a viewi
ng platform at the top where she sometimes stares at the stars, but the room below it is locked and warded with the most dangerous spells she can summon. Only someone who shares her blood can enter that little treasury.
She used to invite me in there when I was a child, to view all her magical objects and curios. I would play with her necklaces and jewels, and she’d smile and drape one of her tiaras on my head.
I don’t know where it all went wrong.
Slipping up the stairs, I nearly leap out of my skin when a riot of noise echoes through the night. Fireworks. They shatter in the night sky, casting a burst of light over our passage before plunging us into the shadows again.
The crown is always kept at the top of the tower.
I place my palm against the solid gold door, every inch of me shaking. “Know my blood,” I whisper. “Let me in.”
Heat wells against my skin, but it doesn’t burn. It merely tastes me.
And then the door swings open.
She hasn’t changed the wards. A tremble runs through me. I wasn’t sure.
The treasury is just as I remember it. A dozen nooks are carved into the stone walls, and within each one rests a golden head. They have no faces, only slight indentations where the eyes and mouths should be, and I’ve always wondered if my mother knows how creepy they look. Sitting atop them is her collection of crowns and tiaras.
But it’s the deepest nook at the far corner of the room that captures my attention.
I’ve never touched it.
This was the one crown Mother never let us near.
She wears it on her head every day, and I’ve even seen her sleeping with it in her bed sometimes, like a child clutching its most precious toy.
I never, ever suspected.
“Don’t touch it directly,” Thiago warns, pacing toward it.
“I didn’t intend to,” I mutter, pulling on a set of thin leather gloves that I’d tucked behind my belt.
“Vi.” There’s something about his voice that warns me.
“What?”
I wave the faelight closer, and its then that I realize what’s wrong.
A gold, faceless head sits within the nook, but there’s nothing on its head. No crown. No wards. Merely an empty space where the crown should lie.
No. No! Where is it?
“A little thief,” something whispers behind us. “Come in the night for a crown. How extraordinary.”
Both of us freeze.
“I wonder…, should I alert the guards?” It’s the doorknob that speaks. “Or should I call for my queen?”
“Run,” Thiago says, shoving me toward the door.
It slams in my face, and I hammer at the beaten gold, before turning around with a frustrated hiss. Curse it. My heart rabbits in my chest as I face the inevitable truth. “It’s a trap.”
And the only one who knew we were coming was my sister.
The doorknob chuckles and then it starts screaming.
I shove Thiago in the chest. “Leave!”
I’ve seen him turn as insubstantial as shadow and know he can pass through solid stone if he has a mind.
“Do you honestly think I’m going to leave you behind? I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you come with me?”
I gesture to the door.
Thiago merely smiles. “I thought I’d make my own.”
And then he turns and presses his fingers to the wall, and with a punch of raw power, stone explodes through the night.
“What part of ‘do not use your magic’ do you not understand?”
He can’t face her. Not here. Not now.
Not with Mother’s curse twisting him on edge.
We steal from the castle just as the guards sprint toward the tower behind us. Yells echo through the night and the portcullis slams down.
Too late.
We’re already in the woods.
And while the ripple of our presence is clearly spreading through the castle, nobody in the woods seems to be aware of it.
“We can’t run,” I tell him, swallowing hard. “They’ll be looking for someone who’s running.”
He could fly out of here, but can he carry me?
Or will there be archers in the trees?
Thiago slows, his hand sliding through mine. He tugs me into a crowd of laughing fae and steals a glass of elderberry wine from a servant’s platter for me. “Then we don’t run,” he murmurs in my ear as he tugs me into his arms.
With the mask in place, he looks like the Lord of Darkness, breathed into fae form.
“What do we do?” Failure makes my breath catch. This was our one chance, and we lost it and….
“We dance,” he tells me, his hand stroking my spine, “and we focus on getting out of here safely. Tomorrow, we will deal with the consequences.”
I rest my head against his chest, dizzy with disappointment.
“This way,” he says as he takes my hand and spins me into a dance.
There’s a nonchalance to his actions, but I can see his eyes roving the night. A pair of guards come together at the edge of the clearing, but we are merely another couple in a sea of dancing fae.
The guard’s jerk a couple apart, tugging their masks from their faces. With a curse, they move on, grabbing another couple from the dance. Ripples of surprise start stirring among the fae. Even drunk and merry, some of them are starting to realize this isn’t normal.
“They’re searching all the dark-haired couples,” I breathe.
But as I speak, they wrench at a tall brunet dancing with a blonde fae woman.
“Any dark-haired male.” Thiago’s eyes narrow, and then he looks down at me. “Go. They won’t stop you if you’re not with me. Not with that hair. I’ll slink into the shadows and follow you.”
Pulse pounding, I fetch another glass of wine. He vanishes in a swirl of his cloak, and I push between a pair of gossiping fauns, making my way casually across the clearing. The prickle between my shoulder blades itches, but nobody stops me. Nobody cries out.
And then I’m in the trees once more, and there’s a shadow flitting along through the woods beside me, like an invisible wolf that follows at my heels.
“Finn’s going to meet us by the lake,” Thiago whispers in my head.
I head in that direction.
The dancers are thinning out now, and though I nearly trample a pair of entwined lovers as I stagger through a thicket, we’re almost alone here.
Almost.
As I hurry around an oak, I see a tall figure picking her way through the middle of the clearing. The moonlight glimmers on her golden gown, and she clutches her skirts in hands that are bedecked with a half dozen rings.
I skid to a halt.
“The wards are not designed to rouse the guards,” my mother says, her cold eyes locking upon me. “But they will wrap themselves around any intruders like spider silk, so I can track them at my leisure. Hello, little thief. Step into the light and show me who you are.”
Chapter Thirty
“Stay hidden,” I warn Thiago.
There’s nothing but silence from his direction, but I know he’s there.
The thought doesn’t ease my nerves; this is what I’ve been trying to avoid at all costs. The last time these two were in the same vicinity, they nearly tore each other apart.
“Who are you?” she demands, flinging a hand toward me.
The mask is torn from my face, and the wig tumbles to the ground with it. My dark hair spills around my shoulders in an inky swirl, but as her winds rip at my skirts, I ward them away. I’m no longer entirely defenseless.
Her eyes flare wide with shock. “Iskvien?”
Good to know that when it comes to stealing her crown, I’m not even the first on her suspect list. She’s blamed me for everything else my entire life, so I was half expecting it.
“Hello, Mother.”
Armor jingles. Guards flood the woods, and torches flare to life as they surround me. Dozens of them by the look of it. But my mother holds up he
r palm, warning them not to move.
“Where is he?” she demands.
“Where is who?”
“You know who I mean.” Her voice drops into a snarl. “That filth you lay with.”
Interesting. Her wards cling to me, but perhaps they slipped from his skin when he became naught more than shadows. “Perhaps I came to enjoy your Imbolc celebrations. Perhaps I missed life at the castle….” I can’t keep a straight face. “Fine. That last one’s a lie. There’s not a damned thing I miss here.”
“You mock me?”
The alternative is to try and strangle her with my bare hands. “Considering what you did to me, you should be relieved all I’m doing is mocking you.”
“Seize her,” Adaia snaps at her guards.
“I think not.”
Wind stirs through the trees as I squat and press my fingertips to the ground. There. Far below us quivers the ley line, though the nexus point—the Hallow—is five miles to the north. Within its ringed stones I’d be invincible, but here, all I can do is pluck at the magic and feel it bubbling up through the ground as if the ley line has found a new nexus point.
Me.
Her eyes lock upon me. “I’ve been wondering how you did it.”
“Surprise, Mother.” I lift my head, feeling the wind stream through my hair as if something answers me. This is not Evernight, where I bound myself to the lands, but there’s something there. A little tremor in the ground where my feet touch, as though something recognizes me. “You’re not the only one with mysterious powers.”
The guards rush toward me.
Throwing up a hand, I send them all flying with an explosion of flame. One slams into a tree. Another crashes in a cascade of metal.
She sends a howl of wind toward me, but it’s the vines snaking over the grass that catch my attention as I stagger backward. One locks around my ankle, and I cross my arms and slash down sharply, parting her winds. Vicious thorns dig into my skin.
But the second my blood hits the earth, a tremor runs through the ground. Those thorns are suddenly mine, and I twist them back upon her, lashing them toward her with vicious speed.
My mother screams as she throws herself aside.
